Crash
by The JohhnyMcKilt Productions
Summary: Oliver's butt is perfect. Enrique and Johnny want to know his secret. They go on an international quest to achieve the perfect ass, stirring up people's houses...and beds.


A/N: Welcome to...Crash! The crazy English equivalent of _Lagot Tayo Kay Bryan_ minus the repetitive pregnancies!...enjoy!xD

**Crash**

_**The Perfect Ass**_

The team never really liked it when Robert trained them in armor. Usually the sessions were held in the dungeons, which were hot and did not let air circulate freely. The conditions became worse every time Johnny battled.

Today was different though. They were still going to be trained in full gear but instead, they were training in the Olympia Stadium. It was airy, big, well-lit and since no games were being held, the Majestics had the place all to themselves.

Johnny sat on the team bench, apparently exhausted from a strenuous battle against Robert. He drained the water bottle he brought as he idly watched the German supervise Oliver and Enrique's match, occasionally commenting on techniques and fighting styles.

"Get over here and help if you're so intent on imparting information!" commanded their team captain.

"I'm too tired to stand up!" the redhead whined, craning his neck to see the expression on the elder noble's face. Oliver was blocking his view.

"Do get up anyway. Put your two cents in on how Oli and Enri can improve."

The Scot stood up grumbling and dragged his feet in ascending the dish. It so happened that he miscalculated his first step, tripped and crashed into the French boy's ass.

"AaAaAaAaARGH!"

"Johnny, are you alright?!" Oliver exclaimed, halting his beybattle and wheeling about to help him.

"Augh, my head! I've got a concussion! A hemorrhage! Is my head bleeding?"

Johnny had fallen to the ground at the force of the impact...and stayed there holding his forehead, groaning in pain.

"Stop over reacting," Enrique said, going over to them, looking somewhat sympathetic. "It's only Oliver's ass..."

Robert was bending over, examining the fiery teen's head. "That's...that's a nasty bruise..." he said, surprised.

"I didn't know you had a butt plate installed in your armor!" Johnny yelled, sitting up. "Damn! It's throbbing!"

Oliver was staring at him oddly. "I didn't have a butt plate installed in my armor." he answered.

"What?!" The Scot was sure he hit the greenette's ass and not the floor. "You didn't? Then what's this?" and he poked the earlier mentioned body part forcefully.

"That's my butt, Jonathan."

"But it's as hard as a rock! Or is this the concussion talking and I'm just imagining that you all see a bruise on my head?" the redhead snapped.

"A rock? No butt's THAT hard!" said the Italian and experimentally poked the butt too.

Summer blue eyes widened. "Oh my god, it IS hard!" And he grasped each cheek repeatedly, much to Oliver's discomfort. "But not like rock...more like stale French bread."

"That's still hard." Robert said and was overcome with curiosity and poked the boy's butt too.

Held by some twisted fascination, all three Majestics were soon poking their youngest member's ass.

"Stop it!" Oliver yelped, moving away to protect his bottom from their hands.

"It's so firm!" the blonde said in awe. "I want an ass like that."

"Yeah, me too..." the Scot agreed.

Their captain sighed. "Let's call it a day," he said, clearly knowing that there was no way his team would be able to concentrate at this rate.

They all headed to the shower rooms to wash up and get dressed.

--

"Oh for all you know it's just hard skin," the purple-haired teen was saying as the four aristocrats took their shower.

"That's just scary," said Enrique as he came out of his cubicle with his stubborn yellow cornflower hair bound in a towel.

"Tell me, how do you work out your butt?" Johnny asked, following the suit and coming out the same time as Robert.

"I'll tell you is not hard skin!" the blonde declared and went over to Oliver, who was in front of the huge lighted mirror, clad in blue boxers and meticulously styling his hair.

Without warning, the former yanked the latter's underpants down. "See? Smooth as a freshly shaven chin." And he gave it a little slap. The French boy merely rolled his eyes and covered himself before continuing with his occupation.

"And beautifully round and firm!" the Scot added, poking it again. The German shrugged in defeat.

The greenette made a quick grab for the noble's ass. "Robert's butt is firm too."

The playboy's and the hothead's attention turned to the indicated body part and poked it.

"Ugh!" said the younger of the two, scandalized at its truth. "How do you do it?"

The German shrugged once more and moved away in case there would be a renewed interest in his ass. "Oliver's got a harder bottom. Ask him."

"We want to work out our butts Oliver!" Johnny expressed and turned around, showing the team his own. "Feel mine, it's like an under-stuffed pillow!"

Three different hands poked it for verification and there was a murmur of assent.

"Feel mine!" Enrique added, turning around too. "It's like jelly!"

Again, this was verified and there was a louder declaration of agreement.

"Comes with being a couch potato..." Robert said darkly.

The Italian huffed. "Excuse me, Jurgen. We don't have a couch...and own only one TV! My figure's fine but not my ass, and you call me a couch potato?"

"It doesn't matter," said the redhead. "I want a good butt...so couch up your secret Les Desmond."

"Well...I don't do much," Oliver began as he went to his locker to fetch a fresh batch of clothes. "I eat healthy. I do my own dishes and that helps a lot. I only use the freshest ingredients and cook my meals with TLC." He winked as he said that. "I indulge myself once in a while but not too much. Wine and champagne are never off the table if you're wondering about that and it STAYS there. On the go, I always drink water..."

"That's it?" asked the blonde, unconvinced. Italy rivaled France in all the aspects of food, meaning he also ate healthy, if not, healthier than the champion chef.

"...and...I walk a lot. Not walking for exercise, but walking for everyday," the greenette added.

"That's an understatement," interrupted the German, who had been styling his hair. "He walks a hell lot more than you can imagine. He could walk the whole of Paris in under a day. And damn, when he came to visit me for a convention in Berlin, the elevator broke down and he trekked the fire escape all the way to the fifty-second floor! Oliver and his kind crave the stairs..."

"Hmm..." the Scot considered. "I havent' tried that. Anything else?"

"Don't try it out all in one day and surprise your body!" said the French boy. "It takes time before you see the physical changes. What I do isn't a diet...it just makes me feel good and healthy."

"There's more to a well-shaped butt than eating right and walking a lot. It gives you a great figure, nice skin, flowing hair. I should know because that's what I do," said the Roman. "...it's just not enough for a firm ass."

"Surely you need to tone your body before preparing it for a final work out," the purpled-haired teen in front of the mirror said. "Plus this regiment needs maintenance and isn't just a one-time thing."

"We know, we know," said the redhead. "We're dedicated to achieving a great ass, aren't we Enri?" The addressed nodded and he continued. "You guys will help us. Our focus is better butts, not exactly leaner figures. With what Enrique said earlier, there's more to this than just improving your lifestyle—"

"But you start out with improving your lifestyle and they way you eat." the greenette interjected.

"That's exactly it!" the playboy exclaimed, pulling his shirt over his head. "Johnny and I are already healthy, very healthy in fact. The most we haven't tried is walking a lot...but the most that could do is improve our stamina, strengthen our legs and reduce the fat in our thighs, but we've got beyblading to cover for that!"

"They're really desperate, Robert," the professional chef told the team captain with a small smile. "They have a lot of points and we're merely stalling for time."

Johnny frowned, looking from the eldest Majestic to the youngest. "Is there something we're missing here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh just tell them Oliver," said the German and shook his head hopelessly when the Frenchman's smile turned gleeful.

"Okay! Gather round you two," he said. "I wouldn't want to declare this to the world..."

"What's not to declare? It's not like you have to have an active sex life..." mumbled the fiery redhead.

A pregnant silence filled the men's shower room. Oliver and Robert exchanged mildly surprised looks. Johnny and Enrique were simply ogling.

"I KNEW IT!" the blonde triumphantly punched the air with his fist, getting over his initial shock. "Holy crap, you're worse than I am!"

"Then...then that means Robert's had sex too?" the Scot shuddered at the mental image. The male in question frowned.

"With girls?" asked the playboy, knowing well that shagging with the opposite sex certainly didn't improve his ass, having tried it already with Bianca and Rosette.

"No." came the snob's reply.

"Well, if Oliver has sex with men, then what does Robert have sex with? Griffolyon?"

The purplette took no offense and ignored what the redhead said. "Men too, who else?" he replied simply.

The look on the Italian's face expressed he had put two and two together.

"Godamnnit. You had sex with Robert?" he asked Oliver.

"And the rest of the boys in Tralala Land..." the eldest Majestic added.

"Everyone?" Johnny was appalled as the team trooped out of the stadium and into the sun, jumping into a limo and driving back to the Jurgen Mansion.

"It's a perfect workout," the Frenchman said enthusiastically as they were in the vehicle. "It's the single activity that gets most number of muscles at work. It also greatly helps the cardiovascular health and the circulation of blood in your body. Keeping a strong momentum would certainly shape and strengthen your..." he trailed off, indicating what he meant with a flamboyant gesture, wary of the fact that the limo driver would be listening.

"It's certainly more fun that walking all around the capital...or gyming," the German added. "Plus it's very practical."

The four aristocrats ceased talking openly of butts and sex, aware of the dire consequences awaiting snippets of converstation that may be eavesdropped upon.

"What I don't understand," Johnny began as they were in safer quarters. "...is how Oliver did it. Did he just grab the first man he saw on the street?"

"I won't dignify your question with an answer," was the noble's reply.

"'the rest of the boys in Tralala Land'," Oliver quoted. "You don't get it? I only worked out with the people I knew and who knew me."

"All the boys in Tralala Land? As in _all_?" Enrique asked. "That involves going around the world!"

"Do stop saying Tralala Land," said the Scot. "It's annoying."

"All teams, new and old," the greenette said with slight pride.

"Amazing isn't he?" Robert said smiling. "That's why mine's only firm while his is hard."

"That's a lot!" The hothead was shocked at how many people they would have to go through to achieve their goal. "A total of...how many teams are there?"

"GRev, PPB All Starz, White Tigers, Blitzkrieg, BEGA, FDynasty and the Barthez Battalion," enumerated the Italian, ticking them off with his fingers.

"Seven teams! That's roughly thirty-five people!" He turned to the playboy with a grin. "Are you up to it Enrique?"

"Hell yeah."

By the time the conversation ended, the Majestics had settled comfortably in the Jurgen study. Johnny and Enrique started packing, wanting to try out the unusual regiment straight away.

"Where should we start?" the Scot asked the French boy.

"If I were you I'd start local...they're easier to talk to," he replied.

"Hm." began the blonde, about to haul his luggage out the door to where Johnny's car was waiting (he had called for it earlier). "The Barthez usually stays at either Claude's or Miguel's house. That's either in France or Spain hence we'll be there after a day's drive?" he looked at his shapely-butt-quest companion for affirmation.

The redhead nodded. "We can ask where they're staying on the way..."

He too made to take his leave.

"See you both!" Robert called. "Have fun!"

"Good luck and email us!" Oliver added as he and the German watched the McGreggor car speed off. "How long do you think they'll take to go around the world keeping this up?"

"Definitely more than eighty days," the elder teen with him chuckled. "Those two won't be back for a long time...

**TBC**

A/N: this is crazy...took me the entire night typing! I'm pooped! ...enjoy!xD and ciAo...hang on...**2, 150 words?! that's a record!**


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